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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29904219">Daring Young Boy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraKant/pseuds/AuroraKant'>AuroraKant</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dick&amp;DamiWeek [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Cuddling, Dick Grayson is Damian Wayne's Parent, Families of Choice, Fluff, Gen, Loss of Language, Referenced - Freeform, Sharing Your Family History With Loved Ones Can Be So Personal Actually</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:01:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,238</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29904219</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraKant/pseuds/AuroraKant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Did you really mean it?”</p><p>Damian was standing in the doorway leading into Richard’s room, when the question slipped past his defenses. He hadn’t asked this very question before, afraid of what the answer might be.<br/>But he was asking now, two weeks later, after an exhausting patrol through Blüdhaven tired his mind enough to allow him to lower his defenses.</p><p>Or: After Damian moves in with Dick the two of them learn a lot about each other - about family, language, and love.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson &amp; Damian Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dick&amp;DamiWeek [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2198859</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>289</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson is Damian Wayne's Parent, DickAndDamiWeek2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Daring Young Boy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello!<br/>Welcome to Dick and Dami Week! I hope you're going to enjoy the upcoming... fluff-ness? Well, apparently even an old dog can learn new tricks! 😉<br/>Many thanks to SuperSilverSpy for beta-ing! &lt;3</p><p>For the prompts <b>"Did you really mean it?"</b> and <b>English Second Language</b></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Did you really mean it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damian was standing in the doorway leading into Richard’s room, when the question slipped past his defenses. He hadn’t asked this very question before, afraid of what the answer might be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t asked when Father forgot his birthday and Richard fought endlessly with the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t asked when Damian broke and whispered “please” in the face of his Batman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t asked when Richard came and packed Damian’s bags for him before they left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he was asking now, two weeks later, after an exhausting patrol through Blüdhaven tired his mind enough to allow him to lower his defenses. Richard was sitting in bed, blankets covering his legs and the brace protecting his left knee. Richard had used that very brace for as long as Damian could remember. An old injury acting up every now and then, as far as Damian could tell. There were documents strewn all over the mattress, and a pair of reading glasses sat perched on top of Richard’s nose, out of place in their cleanliness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His older brother was looking at him, piercing blue eyes searching Damian’s face for an emotion or a clue. Normally, Damian would shut every attempt at reading him down, but for once, he let his fear show. He let Richard see what Damian always felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fear. Anger. Pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doubt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever Richard had been doing was no longer important. Damian watched as he put the documents down, clearing a space next to him in bed. It was silent for a moment too long, the air in the room growing heavier with every second Richard stayed quiet, with every moment Damian’s legs denied him the ability to run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Richard spoke, his voice soft and warm:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, I meant it. You are here now, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes. Damian was here now. In Blüdhaven. In Richard’s old apartment in dire need of repair. He was here now, because he had been weak. Or strong. Damian wasn’t quite sure yet, if his decision to call Richard had been a good one. Maybe he should have stayed silent. Maybe he should have continued to be the Robin to Father’s Batman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But no, when Father forgot yet another date, yet another anniversary… Damian had called Richard and asked for a favor. He asked Richard to take him away. That’s what the man had promised him after all, all those years ago when Richard had been Batman and the world had still been okay. Richard had looked at Damian then, and said “Just one word, and I’ll whisk you away, Li’l D. I’ll come and get you whenever you need me to. I promise.” Back then, Damian had scoffed. Two weeks ago he had finally said okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now he was here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am. I just… I wanted to assure myself of… of my place in this arrangement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come ‘ere, Baby Bat. I wanna tell you a story.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a contemplative look in Richard’s eyes, but Damian felt soft. For once he didn’t complain about Richard offering him comfort. Instead, he crossed the threshold separating them, and went to sit down next to Richard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of story? I am too old to be told bedtime stories.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We might disagree on that one… but that’s not what this is. I wanted… I wanted to tell you the story of my family. Before Bruce. And you, Tim, Cass, Jason… my first family. The Flying Graysons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard rarely spoke of his past. Damian had figured it was a sore subject for the former acrobat. But now there was no pain in Richard’s eyes. No… they were brimming with love, the fondness almost spilling out of them in the form of happy tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But why was Richard talking about this now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damian wasn’t quite sure how all of this was supposed to tie back to his weakness, his need for reassurance. Maybe that was why he asked “Why would you tell me now?” before his mouth could catch up with his brain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently he wasn’t the only Robin whose mouth could get him into trouble. Richard once told him that all of them – and it was weird to think of his reluctant family fondly – had been quick to banter, and even quicker to anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because…” – Richard bit his lip as he thought of a satisfying answer – “Because I want you to know that family is more than just legacy. That… that some families are families of choice, others are of blood. Many are both. But… there is nothing wrong with either of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already know that. I have come to accept you and Todd, Cain and even Drake as legitimate heirs to Father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, Damian was well aware of what Richard meant. He was the one who had called Richard after all. He was the one who told Mother he wouldn’t return to the League, and he was the one who told Father he would be leaving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damian had made a choice of his own. And yet…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But why this story then? As far as I am aware you are the biological child to Mary and John Grayson. You loved – probably still love – them dearly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Their story is my history. I…” – now there was sadness in Richard’s eyes, and Damian felt like a monster, forcing his older brother to relieve horrible things – “I love them. They were my parents, just as Bruce was my second father following their death. There are few things I still have left of them… the story of how they met is one such thing. But I am the last Grayson and I don’t… I want to give that part of me to you. Because you are a part of me. And I want you to carry a piece of my family with you as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damian must have misheard Richard. This couldn’t be… it sounded almost as if Richard was offering Damian a piece of himself. As if he was asking Damian to become a part of him as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I don’t understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Argh! I am not explaining it right! Damian… I want… you are a part of me, Damian. You are my Robin. My kid. My little brother. All of these… and maybe I also want you to be a bit of a Grayson. There is no one else carrying that name, and you don’t have to either… but I thought… maybe you would like to help me carry their memory. As a part of my family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one had ever looked at Damian like this. No one had looked at him with such love ever before (or maybe his Mother had once upon a time, but then Grandfather happened). Damian was… he couldn’t… this was…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears were running down his cheeks, and Damian tried furiously to dry them. Why wouldn’t they stop? Why wouldn’t they go away?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now Richard would surely stop looking at him like this. His older brother would realize that Damian was unworthy of his love, his trust, his loyalty, and Damian would have lost it all once again. Only this time Damian would know what it felt like to be cared for, he would know what comfort was… and he would feel his soul starving when the love he had grown accustomed to didn’t come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His train of thought stopped when a warm, callused fingers pried his hands away from his face. It was Richard. Of course, it was Richard. The man was saying something, but Damian’s heart was beating too loudly, his shoulders shaking under the force of his sobs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t even realized he had started crying in earnest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhh… everything alright, Dami. It’s okay. I’m sorry… you don’t have to worry, I promise. I’m sorry for making you… sad. It’s not--“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! No! It’s not your fault, Richard!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damian’s voice broke free from where his panic had kept it captive. He surprised himself when he registered just how loud and forceful he had said those words. But it was important! He couldn’t let Richard take his offer back! He couldn’t--!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want it. Richard, I want that story and I want that memory.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were probably a thousand reasons for why Damian acted the way he did, but he cared for none of them. In this particular moment he wanted nothing more than to listen to Richard tell his story.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mother had loved him, but in the end she loved Grandfather more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Father had cared for him, but in the end he cared more for Gotham.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Richard? Richard had made him a promise three years ago, and then he waited for Damian to call upon him. And when Damian did… Richard came and chose him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was enough. It was more than enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay… if you’re sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damian forced strength into his voice. Richard must have seen something in his eyes as well, because the next thing Damian knew, he and Richard were cuddling, the blanket pulled up to Damian’s chest. Richard was holding him, and for once it didn’t feel stifling. It felt like home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damian enjoyed the warmth and the smell of laundry detergent and shower gel for as long as he could, while Richard collected his thoughts. He tried to burn this very moment into his own memory. Damian wanted to be able to recall this exact smell and the exact feeling currently warming his chest even years down the line. It was like… rations for when comfort was sparse, and Damian couldn’t allow himself the weakness of enjoying frivolous things like these. There was no doubt that there would be dry spells in his future, and Damian wanted to remember what it felt like to be loved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Richard started talking:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haly’s was a French circus back when it was founded four generations ago, and the Graysons were one of the first families that joined the traveling group. My family back then… things in Europe weren’t good for our people, but they were talented, so the circus offered protection. They migrated to the US shortly before the war started, and after that… my grandfather was born in Mississippi and never left the States, Haly the Second wanted to stay here. But by the time my father was old enough to join the act, Pops Haly had taken over. Haly the Third.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damian couldn’t help himself. He had never thought of Richard as anything besides Gotham.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Roma people, Dami. My dad’s side of the family was Romani. And French. But after three generations in the States and after what happened in Europe… I never had the connection to that part of my heritage that I could have had. Should have had. Mostly a few words or phrases here and there. A few dishes, a few whispered secrets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What a weak word. But everything Damian could offer felt inadequate. What did you say to someone who lost his heritage? </span>
  <em>
    <span>My condolences</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Damian would rather burn than utter these words. Why? Because he could feel his own grief over the dishes his mother had loved to prepare, the language she’d gifted him, the secrets they’d shared, when he thought of the loss of a culture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world was unfair, Damian had learned that from a young age on, but he was always baffled that not even good people like Richard were exempt from that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But don’t worry. The sad part of the story is mostly over. Because Pops Haly was sick of the US. He readied the circus and soon enough, Haly’s Circus was once again an international show. My grandfather was furious. He wanted my dad to leave the circus and become a lawyer. Giovanni Grayson was probably the most boring Grayson to have ever lived… my dad ignored him. He and his brother stayed with Haly. And they did their act all over the world. Amsterdam. Tokyo. Vladivostok. Paris. Addis Abeba.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something wistful in Richard’s voice, and Damian wondered how often Richard missed traveling like that. It must be horrible to be stuck in one place due to duty. Especially if said place was Blüdhaven, dumpster fire extraordinaire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard was lost in thoughts, Damian could see as much, but he didn’t interrupt his older brother, even as he paused for a moment before he continued to speak:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were… they were doing a Russia tour. From St. Petersburg over Moscow all the way to Vladivostok. After that they were supposed to dazzle Japan with their skills. In one of the smaller stops, they met my mom. They did one of their boring routines, with a net, in Tomsk when an aspiring Olympic gymnast sat in the audience and fell head over heels in love with…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your father?” Damian asked when the pause grew too long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His brother, actually. My mom, Maryam, had been waiting for something exciting to happen to her for years, and when Rick flirted with her she was a goner. When they left town… my mom went with them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her parents let her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no!” – and now Richard was laughing, his entire body changing with the energy thrumming through it. Damian realized he liked a laughing Richard so much better than a frowning one – “She packed her bags in the middle of the night and smuggled herself onto the train taking the circus through the western parts of Russia. She spoke barely any English, and my dad and his brother only knew a couple of words of Russian. That first year together on the road, they must have communicated via hands and feet and silly faces.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damian actually wanted to know what happened next. Richard’s parents sounded like interesting people, and he could see why Richard had become the man he now was. With parents like these… but, no, Damian wouldn’t allow himself to go down that particular road.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then… Pop Haly noticed that my mom was damn good at acrobatics. And she joined my dad and Rick up on the trapeze. Somewhere between Kyoto and Jakarta she fell out of love with Rick. My dad was teaching her English between training sessions, and she started teaching him Russian by quoting love poems at him, until he finally understood what she was saying. He later told me he was learning her language in secret as well, just so one day he could quote a poem back at her, and see her surprised face. That was the day they first kissed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damian couldn’t help himself, he pulled a face at the mention of intimacy. Next to him Richard laughed silently, but it was a soft sound, and Damian knew it was not a slight against him. Tiredness crawled up his spine, and Damian felt childish as he hid his face in Richard’s shoulder, so that the man wouldn’t see his yawn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No such luck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s getting pretty late, huh? Maybe we should just go to sleep now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! Finish the story!” Damian realized a moment too late how needy he sounded, how young, but by then it was too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure… not that there is much left to tell. They fell in love. Rick met Aunt Karla in Argentina. They had a double wedding in a McDonalds once they were back in the States. A few years later I came along, born in a train between Berlin and Prague. The international tours stopped when I was… four or five, Pop Haly growing old, and we returned to the US. But… I grew up surrounded by all these people who had traveled the world, and I grew up between fights that switched between so many languages your head felt like it would explode. And then… years later, I met Bruce. The rest, as they say, is history.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“English isn’t your first language, is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damian wasn’t quite sure why he said it. Maybe because he suddenly remembered how Richard sometimes pronounced the letter R differently or how the mission reports from Richard’s early days as Robin had been a grammatical mess. Maybe Damian simply asked because he could feel his own language slip away during silent nights at the Manor, when nobody was there to talk. Neither in English nor Arabic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t… but it might as well be now. I…” – Damian watched as Richard closed his eyes, a frown between his eyebrows, before he opened them again. The man looked so serious, but Damian wasn’t afraid – “Languages are something that slips away so silently, you never notice how much you’ve lost until it’s too late. I grew up speaking mostly Russian and French, later English. The Romani Chib my great-grandfather spoke was lost before my father was born… and by the time I grew up, my Russian was that of a foreigner and not the native tongue my mom had taught me late at night by telling me scary stories about Baba Yaga.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard’s only answer was a hug, but Damian welcomed it. And this time, he was the one who spoke, the one who shared a piece of himself with a person he wanted to call family. Maybe this had been Richard’s goal all along. Equivalent exchange. But even if… Damian couldn’t find it in himself to be mad about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was too warm for that. Too comfortable. Too loved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grandfather was always… very focused on my English education. He… he wanted me to follow into Father’s footsteps after all. But Mother, and the people in the compound, they spoke Arabic and Urdu. I learned it as well. I liked it. The softness. The depth. The beauty. But it was always a secret, something that belonged only to me and my Mother. Me and Ravi. I still remember the last time Mother called me </span>
  <em>
    <span>Habib</span>
  </em>
  <span>… and then I came here. And… and not even my mother would call me </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Dami…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you know that Dami means </span>
  <em>
    <span>my blood</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And not for the first time this night, Damian was caught in an embrace so tight it felt like home. He hugged Richard back, and if his eyes were glistening with unshed tears by the time they separated, neither of them said anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a few precious moments there was silence, and then Richard’s careful voice broke through the quiet surrounding them:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you… would you like me to… would it be okay if… if I learned Arabic? For you? With you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you teach me Russian.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like a deal to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard was grinning, but there was something melancholic in the twist of his lips. It hurt to remember what was lost. It felt good to try and reclaim it. Damian understood. Maybe better than anyone else ever had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now go to bed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dami.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t you-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know what I said, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damian turned around, until he was comfortable underneath the blankets. He was tired, after all. The warmth in his chest at Richard’s words was his secret. The grin on his face was only his. So maybe that was what being loved felt like. Maybe that was why he had called Richard two weeks ago. Maybe that was why it was okay to choose the easy path. Just this once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if Damian called Richard </span>
  <em>
    <span>Akhi </span>
  </em>
  <span>in his head, just as his eyes fell closed? Well, nobody needed to know. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Your feedback makes me extremely happy!! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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